Ch22

After Ron, Hermione, and Neville had gone to bed, Harry stayed down in the Common Room, waiting for Sirius to call. Sure enough, after twenty minutes, his mirror flashed to indicate that Sirius was trying to reach him. He removed the silencing spell from the mirror and waited to see what his godfather had to say.

"You sent me a bloody mirror?" was the first thing out of Sirius's mouth.

"Well, hello to you too, Sirius. I haven't seen you since Halloween. I'm fine, thanks for asking. How have you been?" Harry asked politely.

"Don't get cute with me Harry," Sirius growled. "You sent me a mirror for Christmas!"

"Don't get pissy with me Sirius," Harry said, imitating Sirius's indignant tone, "You really need it. When was the last time you shaved?"

"I've been on the run!"

"I got you a wand," Harry pointed out.

"You made me look like an eleven-year-old girl first," Sirius shot back.

Harry shrugged, trying valiantly to suppress his grin at that very interesting mental picture. "What can I say, Sirius? Sacrifices must be made."

"I didn't see you making any sacrifices…" Sirius said moodily.

"Au contraire, I am now scarred for life," Harry insisted.

"You don't look scarred," Sirius countered as Harry lost the fight to keep his face impassive.

"Yeah, well…" Harry trailed off. "I thought I should probably warn you before I actually do it, but Mrs. Figg sent me one of her kneazle kittens and I'm having one of the school owls deliver it to Filch tomorrow at breakfast."

Sirius froze, mouth agape in horror. "Harry…you…" he shook his head, unable to continue.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Spare me the histrionics, please."

"What histrionics? I am genuinely horrified and appalled here," Sirius huffed indignantly. "What were those Muggles thinking when they raised you?"

"'I sure wish we had a less active Child Protection Service so we could beat the magic out of our freak of a nephew'?" Harry suggested impishly.

"You know what I mean," Sirius said impatiently.

Harry nodded. "Indeed I do. That's why I answered your question to the best of my abilities."

"Don't play dumb Harry; it doesn't suit you," Sirius sniped.

"Hey, if you're going to be like that, then fine. Where's my Christmas present?" Harry demanded, crossing his arms. "You can't complain about what I got you and then turn around and not get me anything."

"I'm a fugitive of the law! I don't exactly have the resources to get you anything," Sirius said defensively.

"Bull," Harry said dismissively. "You have a wand, don't you?"

"Anything I can make with a wand, you can make," Sirius pointed out. "Given my little prison stint, you technically have more years of using magic on you than I do."

"Details, details," Harry waved his hand impatiently. "And what I meant was, you can use glamour and don't even pretend that the goblins care that you're a fugitive. You could have easily gotten me something."

"Well, maybe I would have been more receptive if you'd agreed to meet up. I haven't seen you in months, after all," Sirius pouted.

"That's because, your fugitive status notwithstanding, I'm off at boarding school. That's kind of how these things work. You're just going to have to get used to that."

"I am used to it," Sirius muttered. "But you're the only other person who even understands what's going on with the future and about the Horcruxes and who knows that I'm innocent. I have to use a bloody glamour any time I go anywhere."

"Oh, so you can use a glamour to go places but not to buy me stuff? Typical. You are, without a doubt, the worst godfather ever," Harry declared dramatically.

"Hey, I ate rats for you," Sirius counted.

Harry made a face. "Damn, you've got me there. But seriously, Sirius – and so help me, don't you dare make another stupid pun about that, what I said was completely unintentional – I wanted to meet up but it just wouldn't be very feasible. We don't want there to be any chance of anyone seeing you. We couldn't even meet at the Shrieking Shack since you destroyed it," Harry told him.

"That was an accident!" Sirius protested.

"But it's still gone. And very symbolic, if you think about it. But anyway, you wouldn't even be on the run if you just agreed to-"

"We've been over this, Harry," Sirius interrupted. "It's just not happening. The only way I step foot in that godforsaken house again is if you drag my cold, dead corpse through the doorway."

"Isn't it a bit redundant to say 'cold' and 'dead'?" Harry asked. "Seeing as how they mean the same thing?"

"I know that; I'm just being thorough," Sirius assured him. "And besides, anything I can buy for you-"

"I know, I know," Harry said tiredly. "I can buy for myself. You're really not getting this whole 'Spirit of Christmas' thing, are you?"

"You spend twelve years in bloody Azkaban and we'll see just how much Christmas Spirit you have," Sirius countered.

"You had plenty of Christmas Spirit before you fell through the Veil," Harry pointed out.

"You fall through the Veil and-" Sirius paused. "Oh. Well maybe I'm just depressed because Remus still thinks I'm evil."

"You have me," Harry told him.

There was silence from Sirius's end.

"Sirius!"

"What?" Sirius asked innocently. "Of course I have you. Hm…how about, to make it up to you, I teach you how to be an animagus? As the only child of the Marauders-"

"Actually, Remus had a son, too," Harry interjected. "His name is Teddy."

Sirius looked a little put out. "Fine," he rallied. "Then as the first child of the Marauders, it is truly pathetic that you managed to go this long without becoming one."

"That's a nice sentiment," Harry said pleasantly. "But I had that mastered by the time I was twenty-one."

"Really?" Sirius asked, looking extremely excited. "What are you?"

Harry smirked. "Now, now, Sirius. That would be telling."

----

"Hey, Draco, glad I caught you," Harry said, slapping the Slytherin in question on the back.

Draco eyed him warily. "Does this mean you're talking to me again?"

"Again? I never stopped talking to you," Harry assured him.

"Are you sure? Because I seem to recall you admitting you were avoiding me sometime in November," Draco said casually.

"Really, Draco, you do say the strangest things," Harry said, shaking his head. "Now why would I go and do a silly thing like that?"

"Avoid me?" Draco asked.

"Well, actually, I meant 'admit to avoiding you', but let's go with that. Why would I avoid you, Draco?" Harry asked, the epitome of innocence.

"Because you were spreading rumors about my parentage?" Draco suggested.

"There are rumors about your parentage?" Harry asked, looking shocked.

"Oh, come off it," Draco said, irritated. "I know you know. I know you started them."

"If you say so," Harry said, sounding dubious.

"What is it that you wanted?" Draco asked testily.

"I wanted to remind you to remind your father that after someone searches your property they cannot research it without a warrant and they cannot get that without what I like to call 'due cause.' I would like to further remind you that hearsay does not qualify nor does drugging several students, impersonating them, and overhearing any statements you may have made about your drawing room."

Draco just stared at him. "What?"

"Have a good day," Harry said cheerfully as he ran off, leaving Draco shaking his head in confusion and growing paranoia behind him.

----

The next month and a half passed quite uneventfully. Only three people had been petrified (Zacharias Smith again, Randolph Burrow from Ravenclaw, and Cormac McLaggen, who Harry was even more tempted to leave petrified than he was Zacharias) and all had been quickly revived.

Despite the fact that Sirius called him on the mirror at least twice every week, Harry still refused to tell him what animagus form he had. He didn't really have a reason for it, although it was fun watching Sirius jump through hoops trying to analyze him and figure out what animal he was even though he thought it was painfully obvious. But then he'd had Hermione spend days analyzing why after he completed the transformation, so maybe that was why.

Valentine's Day he decided would be, without a doubt, one of the worst days of his life with Lockhart running the show and the looks some of the barely pubescent girls were giving him. It also made him feel something like a pervert because he was so much older than them, even though he didn't look it and wasn't actually doing anything to encourage their affections. Quite the contrary, he kept trying to reject them, but they kept misinterpreting that to mean he was 'playing hard to get.' Needless to say, Luna and Hermione were the only girls he felt completely comfortable around in the days preceding the fourteenth.

On Valentine's Day itself, Harry realized that he'd worked himself up into such a panic that he would probably snap and start hexing anyone coming within a five foot radius of him and decided, for everyone's sake, to just stay in bed. It wasn't like he was going to miss anything with all of those dwarfs and hormones floating around.

Harry was especially grateful that he chose to do this when the dwarves began a 15-hour siege on his fortunately fortified dormitory door starting at nine that morning. After reinforcing the protections he'd cast and adding a couple of silencing spells, it really didn't bother him all day, although his roommates were a bit disturbed when they came back that evening. Apparently it was weird that he had an entire army full of determined message-deliverers. Determined, but clearly only within reason as they stopped the minute it hit midnight. Apparently dwarves don't do overtime.

In March, Harry and Luna attended the loud and raucous party the Mandrakes were throwing in Greenhouse Three and it honestly had to be one of the most bizarre experiences Harry ever had. Particularly since he could barely hear anything due to the spells he and Luna had cast on themselves so they wouldn't be knocked out and/or killed by their hosts. It certainly made for an interesting editorial, though, and some strange pictures. It struck Harry as slightly odd that the Mandrakes were almost fully matured, but nobody really seemed to care as Harry kept the supply of Mandrake Potion on coming whenever anybody needed it.

Before Harry knew it, it was time to choose the classes for third year. And despite what Hermione may have thought, Harry did think long and hard about his choices.

"You want to take Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination?" Hermione asked incredulously, glancing at his sheet.

"Yep," Harry nodded.

"I can't believe you," Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Why not?" Harry asked. "You're taking them." He paused. "Among other things."

Hermione looked startled. "How did you know about-"

"You totally planning on using the Time Turner I got you to take not only those three subjects but Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, too?" Harry asked innocently.

Now Hermione looked outraged. "HARRY! That was supposed to be a secret! And how did you even know about that in the first place?"

Harry crossed his arms and said, not a little smugly, "That's what you get for doubting my scar."

Hermione looked bemused. "Are you saying your scar wants an apology or something?"

Harry cocked his head to the side, pretending to consult with said facial disfigurement. "My scar says that would be nice."

Hermione raised her eyes to the heavens in a 'why me' gesture. "If I do, will you not tell anyone else?"

"You know, you guys can stop acting like we're not here any time now," Neville told them.

"Yeah, and we are perfectly capable of keeping secrets," Ron added.

Harry ignored them. "I promise." Another pause. "And so does my scar."

"Even if I believed your scar could talk, you're the only one who understands it!" Hermione exploded.

"You don't know that," Harry told her crossly.

"Still here…" Neville said.

"Who else can communicate with your scar then and why haven't they come forward?" Hermione challenged.

"Well I'm sure I don't know the answer to either question – I'm not my scar's keeper after all," Harry glared at Hermione, who had snorted at that. "But possibly it's because they don't want anyone to think they're crazy."

"Because why would anyone think that someone was crazy for hearing your scar talk to them?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"Hey, do you want to just forget them and play Chess since they won't acknowledge us?" Ron asked.

"Why not?" Neville shrugged. "See how they like it."

"My scar is still waiting for that apology," Harry reminded her.

"Fine!" Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "I'm sorry if I offended your scar by implying that it is not sentient and as such cannot actually speak to anyone. And for thinking that even if it could, it still wouldn't be psychic because that is really pushing the limits of what I'm willing to believe, even in a magic school."

"My scar thanks you and, what's more, I thank you," Harry said gravely. "My scar really wouldn't shut up about how angry and hurt it was whenever you were in the room. I do have a question for you, though. If you don't believe anyone can be psychic, what's the point of taking Divination?"

"I may not believe in it, but I don't know for sure that it's not real and I'm anal enough that I can't stand the possibility of missing out on what might turn out to be a completely legitimate learning experience," Hermione answered promptly.

Harry laughed at that. "Hermione, regardless of your opinions of the validity of the art of Divination as a whole, even the most blatant frauds will tell you that you can't learn Divination. You either have the 'Inner Eye' or you don't."

"Are you saying I don't have this 'Inner Eye'?" Hermione asked, her voice dangerous. Clearly she didn't appreciate being told she wasn't good enough to take a class, even one she didn't particularly want to take but was taking more as a matter of principle.

"I'm just saying that if you did, you probably would have had some indication by now," Harry said delicately.

"Like with you and your scar?" Hermione sniffed.

"By that do you mean 'do I think I'll be good at the subject'?" Harry asked. "I think I'll be phenomenal." Partly because of his incredibly BS abilities. "But something you should know is that a common characteristic of Seers is that the stronger Inner Eye you possess, the more, well, strange you tend to be."

"So you WOULD be an expert," Hermione said innocently. "And probably Luna too. But does that mean that our Professor would also be a bit…distant?"

"Professor Trelawney has a very strong Inner Eye but she sometimes tries to…push it, force future knowledge that she needs to just let come naturally. I have no doubt that she'd have a lot more visions if she'd just let it come naturally," Harry confided.

"How would you come to that conclusion if she never has?" Hermione was intrigued.

"Because real Seers never remember their prophecies," Harry explained. "Some 'higher power' or whatever is speaking through them."

"Then how do you explain that you remember everything you see?" Hermione countered.

"Easy. I'm not psychic, my scar is," Harry said simply.

"Then how would you be good at Divination?" Hermione asked.

"I have 24-hour access to my scar, first of all. Secondly, when it comes to Divination class, a lot of the time you have to fake it, no matter how talented you are."

"Then why take the class, if you seem to be convinced it won't do you any good?" Hermione asked, baffled.

"Because it's an easy O, duh," Ron supplied, looking up from the chess board.

"Because I'd like an opportunity to further hone my BS abilities and it won't be that difficult," Harry said. "Am I right, Ron?"

Ron, who had just said something to that effect literally ten seconds before Harry remembered he existed, just gaped at him in horror.

Neville patted him on the arm sympathetically.

"Fine, don't answer me," Harry said, annoyed. "I don't care."

"Why would you want to do that when you can take something useful like Arithmancy or Ancient Runes?" Hermione demanded.

"Because I know nothing about either of those subjects and I would actually have to work at it and quite frankly I just don't feel like it," Harry replied.

"I can understand taking Care of Magical Creatures. That might not come into play with whatever you want to do once you graduate, but surely you will, at some point, encounter some magical creatures and it would help if you knew the basics when dealing with them. On the other hand, Muggle Studies?" Hermione couldn't believe it.

"Why not?" Harry said again. "You're taking it."

"I'm only taking it because I think it would be fascinating to study Muggles from a wizarding perspective," Hermione pointed out. "Since you won't even try something new, I think I can safely say that that's not your motivation. So why are you really taking it?"

"Even easier O." Hermione threw a book at him. "What?"

"You're impossible, you know that?" Hermione grumbled.

"But you love me anyway," Harry grinned.

"Only because you lured me into friendship under false pretences!" Hermione insisted.

Harry's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. It wasn't often he was confused since his return to the past and he didn't like the feeling. "False pretences?"

"You didn't tell me you were crazy!"

"That's because I'm not," Harry protested.

"Your scar says otherwise," Hermione responded.

"Oh, so NOW you can hear my scar. By your own logic, that makes you crazy," Harry shot back.

"I think they're both crazy," Ron offered.

"For once, I agree," Neville said.

"Why are they ignoring us again?" Ron asked, still a little offended.

"I don't think they're doing it on purpose. I just think that they're both the type of people who get so caught up in arguments they just don't notice anything outside of what they're saying," Neville suggested.

"Really? That's so weird…"

Neville shrugged. "You and Hermione are the same way, you know."

Ron's eyes bulged out. "Really?"

Neville nodded, thinking back on all the times Harry had been off doing God knows what and he had been left alone with a bickering Ron and Hermione and thoroughly ignored. Was it any wonder, really, he reached out to Ginny? Growing up with six older brothers, she understood perfectly.